


Theoretical Concepts

by thequeernessofsupers (CharlemagneGryffis)



Series: Alufic [6]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Tasers, alufic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlemagneGryffis/pseuds/thequeernessofsupers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alura doesn't fight too often, preferring to utilize her legal skills and knowledge to aid the DEO. When her daughter and her wife are in trouble, and her sister needs backup, she goes to their aid and does battle for the first time - anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theoretical Concepts

It’s never been your _shtick_ , fighting. Not like it was Astra’s, or Alex’s, or Kara’s – or even Lucy’s. You prefer the atmosphere of your courtroom, the harangue and diatribe between lawyers and judges, trying to piece together the truth and rip away the falsehoods. Oh, you _know_ how to fight. Who on Krypton didn’t? Everyone knew – or at least they would have. Kara would have learnt, in time. On her fifteenth birthday she would have been brought, along with the rest of her birthing year, to the Military Guild, just like she would have been brought to the Artisans Guild, and the Science Guild, and the Religious Guild, and the Labourers Guild in her previous years – she was _in_ the Artisans Guild, when she left, having left the Science Guild.

You had been raised above the Guilds, of course. You, of the House of Ze, who became the High Judge of Krypton, who sentenced criminals of the galaxy to Fort Rozz and prisons of similar make and build in the Phantom Zone. You didn’t use your bare hands to destroy your opponents, or the weapons so carelessly given out. Even on Earth, you did not. Instead you used your words, cutting into people and trapping them with their own verbatim.

But.

_But_.

That did not mean, under appropriate circumstances, you could _not_ raise yourself to those levels.

These were appropriate circumstances.

Your fingers curl around the taser, foreign and yet familiar in your grasp. You had one on Krypton, for your own safety – kept it hidden in the hollow of your chest, above your breast and underneath your husbands sigil. _El Mayara_ , Stronger Together. Yes, stronger together. But when on your own, surviving came first. This taser is larger than the ones on Krypton – bulky, in comparison to the razor-thin tasers of your home planet, and it doesn’t latch onto your fingers. You have to do that, latching onto _it._

The battle you enter with this weapon is not large. It is simply a large-scale, _very public_ harassment. Your daughter, her wife, Alex – Astra’s Alex, your sister’s wife, your daughter’s sister, your daughter, your sister – and Lucy – your Lucy, your beloved, your wife, _your wife_ – are surrounded by petty, but unfortunately large humans who seek to take them for their own. You know Astra is struggling to get out of her conversation with the terrible, misogynistic politician who Madam President is _barely_ tolerating, you can hear her trying to speak and getting cut off, bodyguards preventing her from making a swift, inhuman exit to help her wife.

You can hear Lucy try to use legal jargon to scare the men off. You can hear that it isn’t working.

Usually, Kara would do something. She might use super-strength to get them out of there, or to draw attention by pushing someone to the ground, but they are being watched, and unfortunately, one of the men? Cat Grant’s ex-husband, and a firm believer in the theory that Kara – your daughter, your amazing, terrific, brilliant, honest, _super_ daughter – is a gold digger and only married Cat for the money. Kara is quiet and scared and Cat is already in a precarious situation with the man around the custody of her son, Carter – brilliant, amazing Carter, your grandson, _your grandson_ – so she cannot defend either of them.

Alex?

Alex has one broken arm and a dislocated hip. She is in _no_ way capable of putting her skills to task today.

You approach from behind, trying not to break the pitiful human weapon as you hear their words, spiteful and jarring and repulsive. One grabs Lucy’s arm, trying to pull her into his arms. You can’t believe the human guards watching this political event are letting this happen – cannot believe that these pathetic wastes are even _invited_.

You bring your taser up and place it against the mans neck, pressing the button. There is a crackle of electricity and then the man lets out a yell, arms jerking as he falls to the ground.

“Get the _hell_ away from my wife!” You growl, glaring daggers as he twitches on the ground. You raise your eyes, unable to stop the red from bleeding onto your face as your control wanes and the taser cracks as it breaks.

“And stay far, _far_ away from my family.”

They run. They don’t come back – and meanwhile, Lucy holds you tighter than you can ever remember her having the strength with, kissing you plainly, simply, but crushingly.


End file.
